Washed Out
by FemaleChauvinist
Summary: Not everyone can wear all colors…but when you're a part of Starfleet, you don't have a choice.


**Disclaimer:** Recognizable characters and plotlines are the property of Paramount and Viacom; all original characters and story © 2017 FemaleChauvinist

 _Do not post without permission. Do not copy/print without including the above disclaimer in its entirety._

 **A/N: I apologize for not posting any Deep Space Nine stories in while. It's actually the story-world I'm most interested in right now; I'm currently nearing the end of a longer DS9 story that I started a little over a year ago. The trouble is, between work and all the other things I have to do, I haven't been able to find much time to edit. So, since my Twilight stories are all edited and ready to go, they're the ones that get posted! Barbie**

 _First or Second season_

"Is this seat taken?" Julian Bashir asked, walking up to the bar at Quark's.

The girl on the next stool shook her head. "No; go ahead."

"Thanks," he said, taking a seat on the stool. "Julian Bashir."

She turned toward him for the first time. "Marjenna Duprez," she introduced herself with a smile.

Bashir frowned, the question he had been about to ask forgotten as he saw her face. "Are you feeling all right, Miss Duprez?"

"Yes, I'm fine," she answered quickly — too quickly, Bashir thought.

"Are you sure?" he pressed. "I'm a doctor; I'm off duty, but I wouldn't mind taking a look at you."

"Is that your idea of a pick-up line?" she asked shortly.

Bashir reddened slightly as he realized exactly what he'd said and the double meaning it contained. "I'm concerned about you," he told her gently. "No offence, but your color doesn't look at all healthy."

Marjenna gave a long-suffering sigh. "It's the uniform."

Bashir frowned in some confusion. "You're allergic to the fabric?"

"Specifically, the color," Marjenna said, more a continuation of her previous statement than a response to his question.

"I beg your pardon?" Did she mean she was allergic to the dye, he wondered, or that the sight of certain colors made her feel ill?

"Wearing some colors, especially next to my face, makes me appear washed out and even unwell," Marjenna explained wearily.

Bashir appeared skeptical.

Marjenna sighed again. "Quark, may I borrow that towel?"

"What do you think this is, a linen shop?" Quark grumbled.

"She's not going to steal it, Quark; she just asked to borrow it," Bashir put in in Marjenna's defense.

"Just two minutes," Marjenna pleaded.

With Bashir's eye still fixed on him, Quark sighed and handed over the towel; judging from the doctor's holosuite choices, he knew he had a soft spot for ladies in distress. "Here; just don't get anything on it or I'll have to charge you."

Marjenna quickly wrapped the towel around her neck, covering up the uniform. "See?"

Bashir whistled softly. "I certainly do. I believe I owe you an apology, Miss Duprez."

Marjenna flushed at the obvious admiration in his expression. "Just you and everyone else," she muttered sarcastically. She took the towel and laid it on the counter, her reddened cheeks suddenly appearing unnatural and almost feverish.

Bashir found himself blinking at the transformation. "You've had other people notice?" he questioned, her annoyance at the topic beginning to make more sense.

"Please," she groaned. "I know they're just concerned, but I still get tired of hearing it over and over. Several people today suggested I go to the infirmary; I think one would have made it an order if somebody hadn't come up and distracted him."

"Hmm," Bashir murmured, tapping the counter thoughtfully. "I can't really ask for a medical exemption from the uniform for you, since it isn't actually affecting your health."

"Rats," she muttered in half feigned disappointment.

"But if you let me run a basic tricorder scan, you can tell anyone else who asks that you're already been to see me and I gave you a clean bill of health."

"You can't just take my word for it?" she protested.

"Unofficially, yes; officially, no."

She sighed. "All right, then. Someone's going to send me to the infirmary before long anyway; might as well get it over with."

Bashir chuckled and reached for his tricorder.

Marjenna started. "You mean now…here?"

"Unless you'd rather go down to the infirmary and have a little more privacy?"

Marjenna glanced around; no one appeared to be paying any attention to them. "No; go ahead."

The scan took less than a minute, and Bashir gave the readings a cursory glance before hooking the tricorder back on his belt. "Clean bill of health," he said with a grin. "If anyone gives you anymore trouble, just tell them to talk to me."

Marjenna smiled. "Thanks, Dr Bashir."

"Julian, please."

"Then you can call me Marjenna."

He nodded acknowledgment. "I imagine people will stop asking if you're all right once they get used to the fact that this is how you normally look."

"I hope so."

"Really, though, you should change out of your uniform whenever you're not on duty." He grinned. "Doctor's orders."

She laughed. "That's a prescription I don't mind at all."

The End

 _I proofread all my stories at least once before posting, but if you see any mistakes I might have missed, please let me know!_

 _Please note that I have internet access only once a week, and may not have time to respond to all reviews/messages. If you have questions regarding my Deep Space Nine alternate history, check my profile first to see if they're answered there. Thanks for your understanding! Barbie_


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